I stepped inside the house, where a gentle breeze from the ceiling fans drifted against my hot skin, giving some relief. The white wood-paneled room had fresh flowers atop two white desks, where two pleasant-looking women awaited us. Oh, look. We’re being checked in to heaven. Every perfect detail of this shitty place pissed me off.
The guests formed a line and then gave their names to the women in blue-and-white blouses behind the desks. After that, another woman, different every time, quickly whisked them off down a hallway.
My turn. I stepped up, feeling nervous as hell. I wasn’t great at lying, but there was no other way. I’m a guest. A happy guest.
“Hi. I’m Stephanie Brenna.”
The young woman with cocoa skin and her black hair pulled into a neat ponytail smiled and then checked my name off her list. “There you are, Ms. Brenna. Julie will be checking you in and going over the island’s amenities and rules during your stay.”
Julie, a brunette wearing white shorts and the standard Hawaiian blouse, appeared with a bright smile. “Ms. Brenna, hello. Please come right this way.”
“What is this?” The whole whisking people away and separating the guests made me uneasy.
The receptionist continued smiling like she was high on life or had just gotten her wings. “Ah, yes. Well, our check-in process is a little different than your standard resort.” She leaned into her desk and whispered, “Because of the unique nature of our services.” She winked.
“So you mean there’s sex paperwork,” I said.
She pointed her pencil at me. “You got it. And a safety orientation.”
“And Mr. Rook? When do I get to meet him?” I asked.
The smiles on the women’s faces melted so fast, one might have assumed I’d just told them I’d like to eat their livers.
“What?” I asked. “This is his island, isn’t it?”
Julie, my check-in hostess, swallowed something in her throat. “I’m afraid that Mr. Rook doesn’t manage the day-to-day operations of the island—he’s a very busy man. However, if you have any concerns or needs—anything at all—I will be your personal concierge for the week.” Her fake smile reappeared. “And if there’s anything I can’t manage, the island’s executive manager, Mrs. Day, can see to it.”
“So I won’t get to meet the famous Mr. Rook?” I asked.
They smiled politely, but didn’t speak. I got the distinct impression that they were not allowed to say no to a guest.
“All right. Is he even on the island?” I prodded.
The receptionist offered me a bone. “Mr. Rook does have a personal residence here, but we are not kept informed of his schedule or whereabouts. Is there anything we can address? Any concerns?”
The two women eyed the line of rowdy drunk guests behind me. Apparently, one of them had to pee, a fact she happily shared with us all.
Okay, well, if Mr. Rook didn’t run things on a daily basis, then he wasn’t the only person with answers. Of course, the big boss would have to know if a guest went missing, so I would still need to meet him.
“No.” I flashed a smile to make nice. “No concerns at this time.”
“Then follow me!” Julie turned for the hallway. “In a few short minutes, I’ll have you on your way to a week of pure pampering and relaxation.”
“Fabulous.” I followed behind her.
“Unless your version of relaxation requires something more vigorous.” She glanced over her shoulder and winked.
What’s with the damned winking? This entire place gave me the heebie-jeebies. “Can’t wait.”
CHAPTER TWO
Okay. I did not expect this. Julie had taken me to a small cozy office with a desk for her and a comfy armchair and chilled champagne for me. Pictures of tropical flowers dotted the pale green walls, and white plantation shutters blocked the sunlight outside. Thankfully, her office had air-conditioning, which I welcomed, but the atmosphere was clearly intended to make guests feel relaxed.
Now I know why. I glanced down at the sheet of paper in my hands. There were ten body shots of men, all shirtless, all handsome, all with perfect smiles. “You’re asking me to…” I made a little cough, “pick a guy to have sex with me?”
Julie blinked her brown eyes, but didn’t seem overtly uncomfortable. She’d had these conversations before.
“That is an excellent point, Ms. Brenna. Perhaps I should review the house rules with you first.” She slid another piece of paper from her drawer, placed it on a white clipboard, and handed it over her desk, followed by a pen. “Please read and initial the rules and sign at the bottom. I’ll answer any questions you have and you are free to discuss any concerns with me. Confidentially, of course.”
I gave her a look and then got to reading.
The guests understand that their stay on the island, including any experiences, services, and features of the island, may not be discussed with third parties. Talking to the media, taking photographs, and sharing information regarding Rook’s Island is strictly forbidden. You are required to surrender all cameras and devices with cameras to the staff upon your arrival. They will be secured in a safe and returned prior to your departure.
So, basically, what happens on Rook’s Island stays on Rook’s Island. However, I had brought a laptop and phone, intending to take notes and pictures of anything I found.
“I have some work to do while I’m here,” I said to Julie. “I’m going to need my laptop.”
“Not a problem. I can provide you with a private office and access to any devices, though they won’t be able to leave the room.”
“What if I need to call someone? Or someone needs to call me?” I asked.
“I’m afraid your cell phone won’t get reception here, but you are always welcome to use one of our landlines for long-distance calls, and we have a toll-free number you may provide to any loved ones, though it’s only for leaving messages.” She smiled.
She had an answer for everything, and I was in no position to squabble. I had bigger fish to fry.
“Sounds great,” I said through my teeth.
Julie rose from her chair and slid a painting of a white lily on the wall behind her to the side, revealing a small hotel-sized safe. “I will keep your things in here and personally ensure your items are returned at the end of your stay.”
I dug my laptop from my backpack and my cell from my purse and handed them over. Julie put them away and sat again, her hands laced atop her desk and a polite smile on her stupid polite face.
I went back to reading and initialing the rules. The rest of the first page pertained to the no-refund policy, noise restrictions between the hours of midnight and six a.m., and the other rules around the use of the common areas. Basically, don’t fuck up someone else’s vacation by being an asshole.
Fine. I initialed.
“What’s this one?” I pointed to rule number six.
“Oh, that’s for your own safety. Portions of the island are off-limits. You are to stay only on the resort property.”
“I thought the entire island was the resort.”
“It is, but we have left half the island untouched. It’s a nature preserve—wild animals, snakes, and other scary critters.” She crinkled her pert nose. “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt. And always stay on the paths, especially at night. We have those electronic snake fences around the immediate property, but they don’t work on spiders and centipedes.”
I made a sour face. I fucking hated bugs. This place was my worst nightmare times two. “Lovely.”
Suddenly, I wondered if that might have something to do with Cici’s disappearance. Did she wander off into the jungle at night and get bitten by something poisonous?
Julie swiped her hand through the air. “Oh, now. Nothing to worry about. We don’t have any large predators, and we have excellent fencing and groundskeepers. They use natural repellents, too.”
I nodded, initialed, and moved on to the other side of the page.
During your fantasy, guests
may become excited and overwhelmed. While we want you to enjoy your stay, please remember not to harm our employees unless it has been explicitly agreed to as part of your fantasy specification per your contract.
Okaaay. I guess that’s meant for the Fifty Shades fans. Honestly, though, I wasn’t really surprised. I supposed a lot of women were into that. The ladies on the plane, however, were another story. I had overheard one say she’d be sailing on a pirate ship with a wickedly handsome Captain Hook. Another said she’d be doing some submarine thing where she would be the only woman on board. I didn’t want to hear the rest, but I guessed there would be more than one man on that submarine for her underwater orgy. My point was, however, some of these fantasies were quite elaborate and required expensive props: ships, submarines, treehouses (for Tarzan), Egyptian pyramids, prairies and cattle, office buildings and restaurants (for the billionaire fantasy one lady spoke of). The island had to be like one giant Disneyland for adult women.
Yet no one officially recognizes its existence? Crazy.
I continued reading:
Your concierge will be providing you with a contract outlining the specifics of your fantasy. Please be sure to review it carefully and ensure it is accurate. Note: Sexual intercourse is provided at no additional charge. And while our fantasy guides are examined on a weekly basis by our medical staff, we recommend the use of condoms. The island is not responsible for any pregnancies or issues resulting from unsafe sex with the fantasy guides or other guests.
I looked up at Julie. “Fantasy guides are your actors?”
She nodded. “Yes. However, not all of our guides are acting. Jerrod, for example, is our resident cowboy. He actually runs our little cattle ranch.” She leaned into her desk. “We have the best steak on the planet, by the way. All organically raised right here.”
“Is your Tarzan real, too?”
“Well, I’m not supposed to discuss the fantasy guides’ personal lives off the island, but I can tell you that our Tarzan is a biologist who’s dedicated his life to saving the rain forest. He spends half the year here with his research and half the year teaching conservation.”
“So he studies plants and animals and then screws a few guests on the side for money.”
Julie’s lips formed a flat line. “He sees it as a way to promote his passion for the jungle.”
“Sure.” Fucking in treetops should be everyone’s cause. “And do guests actually have unprotected sex?” I asked, glancing back down at the rules. I found it hard to believe in this day and age.
Julie shrugged. “Here on the island, our aim is to fulfill the guests’ fantasies—whatever those may be. Of course, we do try to keep our guests’ safety in mind, as well as ensure we are equipped with the right resources and personnel to provide an authentic fantasy. No cheap movie sets here. You get the real thing—real men, real settings, real fun. Thus the reason for the online questionnaire, which you originally filled out. We want to be sure the fantasies are within our capabilities.”
“So no space travel fantasies, then?” I said dryly.
“Afraid not. Though we can do alien abductions if that’s something you’re interested in.”
“Uh…no. I’ve never wanted to be fucked by ET. Thanks anyway.”
Julie held her polite smile, despite finding me offensive, no doubt. I didn’t really care. She offended me. The fucking bugs offended me. This entire island offended me.
I read the rest of the rules, mostly about guarantees of service, daily massages, all-inclusive meals and such.
Guests who do not comply with the island’s rules and obey all signs and safety warnings will be subject to removal without a refund.
Whatever. I signed.
“Wonderful.” Julie stood from her desk and whipped out a giant cotton swab. “Now I’ll just take a quick saliva sample, and we’re done.”
“Why do you need my saliva?”
“Only a safety precaution.”
“For…?” I’d never heard of such a check-in procedure.
“Um, well, we do need to protect our fantasy guides, in case you decide you like it—” she cleared her throat “—free and natural. This is less intrusive than a blood test.”
“So it’s an STD test.”
“Yep.”
I didn’t know they could do that. “I thought you needed a blood sample or to do a culture or something?”
“Don’t let the relaxing atmosphere fool you,” she said. “We spare no expense for our guests on this island. You should see our Scottish Highlander fantasy. The castle is amazing.” She walked around the desk and leaned down. “Say ah.”
I reluctantly opened my mouth. This entire process felt intrusive and just plain weird.
Julie took the sample, popped it into a test tube, and set it on her desk. “All righty. Let’s get you to your room. The island tour starts in one hour, so you can freshen up if you like.”
I stood and peeled my blue dress off my backside. I was still sweating from being outside and my nerves were a mess. I could definitely use a moment to freshen up. Throwing up sounded kind of nice, too.
“Oh, and I almost forgot,” Julie said, pausing at the door. “Which fantasy guide will you be liking? I always advise picking two in case your first choice isn’t up to snuff, so we can swap him out quickly. However, you really can’t go wrong with any of them. Every man on the menu is a bona fide gentleman. One is even a real life duke, though I can’t divulge which one.”
She treated the men like meal choices in a restaurant. Surreal.
“Surprise me.” I wasn’t going to be sleeping with anyone, and I certainly wasn’t going to be enjoying myself.
“Are you certain? Because they’re all quite different.”
“I’ll take Mr. Rook.”
Without breaking character, she blinked. “I’m afraid he doesn’t participate in the fantasies; however, I can make a recommendation if you like?”
I glanced at the man-menu still in my hand, filled with handsome faces every color of the rainbow and with every flavor of facial hair—scruff, clean shaved, full beard, goatee. All right. If everyone insists that Mr. Rook is off-limits, then perhaps I need to play a role of my own: irate guest. Nothing would be right or meet my satisfaction. Every flaw and imperfection would be greeted with temper tantrums. I would demand to have my complaints addressed by management, which of course wouldn’t be enough. Mr. Rook would have to step in.
I could only hope that I’d find enough things to complain about. So far, everything was perfect—aesthetically speaking—and the staff seemed dedicated to making every detail flawless.
Maybe the shampoo will suck.
“I like men who take control,” I lied and handed her the menu. “And I don’t like making decisions either. Too stressful.”
Julie jotted something down on a notepad. “Got it. Controlling, take-charge gentleman. I know the perfect guide for you.” She took the menu. “I’ll have your fantasy contract drawn up and sent to your room tonight. You’ll have all day tomorrow to review it and make changes. Wednesday is your assigned fantasy day.”
Today was Monday, so this was my first chance to throw a curveball. “No. That won’t do. I want my fantasy to start tomorrow and go all week.”
Without batting an eyelash, Julie simply smiled. “Most guests prefer to have time to enjoy all of the island’s amenities in addition to their fantasy; however, it would be my pleasure to make that arrangement for you.” She grabbed her notepad. “So, to be clear, you would like to have a date with your gentleman every day of your stay instead of one daylong date?”
Dammit. She didn’t seem at all put out by this request. I needed to make it harder.
“I think I’d prefer a few breakfast dates, a lunch or two, and then a really nice dinner on a yacht, as I specified in my application. But I don’t like big yachts. Or too small. Just romantic-sized.” That should open the door to some whining.
“Absolutely, Ms. Brenna. I’ll be sure to have your contra
ct sent over this evening, along with the menu choices for your meals.”
“No. I said I don’t like making choices.” Such a lie. I had no problem doing that, but I also wasn’t big on complaining unless the situation really called for it. Steak slightly overcooked—no problem. Boyfriend—not that I’d had one recently—shows up a few minutes late or “comes” too early. No big deal. I simply didn’t see the point in getting all worked up over the little things.
“All right, I will pick something for you,” Julie said. “No food allergies, correct?”
I was about to say no, but this seemed like another excellent opportunity to create some waves during my stay. Come hell or high water, Mr. Rook would come out of hiding.
“Yes, I’m allergic to nuts, eggs, gluten, berries, and I don’t eat meat or dairy.” So, basically, I live like a rabbit. Also, not true. I loved burgers as much as the next meat-eating girl.
Julie took it all down, not even breaking a sweat. “I’m sure our chefs will be able to come up with some excellent vegan dishes.”
Crap. I hadn’t made it hard enough. “Oh—I forgot. I don’t like tofu or any of that fake meat crap. It’s disgusting. Salad is horrible, too. All that chewing.” I had no idea what that would leave on the list of acceptable ingredients, but it couldn’t be anything that would taste good.
Julie gave me a look. “No problem, Ms. Brenna. We are here to cater to your every need and whim.”
Dammit. She was making it impossible to get upset.
“And this is for you.” Julie pulled out a little white box.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“There is no Wi-Fi and your personal cell phone won’t work on this island. This is a special phone so that you can reach me anytime, day or night.”
Oh. Don’t you worry. I’ll be calling. Day, night, every five seconds. The complaining wouldn’t stop until Mr. Rook paid me a visit.
“Thanks,” I said.
Mr. Rook Page 2